


various it prompt fics

by BookRockShooter



Category: IT (2017), IT (2019), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Behavior, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, IT Chapter 2 Spoilers, M/M, Post-Canon, Prompt Fic, just some prompt fics i wrote for tumblr that i decided to move here bc why the fuck not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 09:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20525561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookRockShooter/pseuds/BookRockShooter
Summary: prompt fics i wrote for various it ships on my tumblr that i'm posting here as well because why noteach chapter is titled after the ship it's about, prompt for that chapter will be in the description!





	1. reddie

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not used to just posting fic to tumblr so like why not compile said tumblr fics into a thing here on ao3 yeet sdksjd
> 
> if you happy to enjoy any of these and you're up for it you can absolutely drop a request in my tumblr ask box! i may take a while to get to it but i love having vague ideas/prompts to go off on when writing so yeah sksksk
> 
> hope you enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt(s): "You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, ‘cause guess what? It did!" + "We’re not just friends and you fucking know it."

Somewhere along the way through the Neibolt house, Richie and Eddie end up separated from the others.

Normally, Richie would be fucking ecstatic to be alone with Eddie. Due to several unfortunate circumstances, though – such as the fact that they’re in the fucking Neibolt house looking for a killer clown, it’s worryingly dark, and Eddie isn’t speaking to him – Richie is having a terrible fucking time.

God, the silence is deafening. He stares at the back of Eddie’s head and tightens his grip around his flashlight. He has to say something. This is ridiculous.

Finally, he starts to speak, but he barely manages to get out “Eddie” before the man in question snaps, “Not now, Richie.”

_Fucking_ – “Then when, asshole?” Richie bites out, regretting it immediately when Eddie’s entire form tenses up, like he’s getting ready to bolt. He won’t, since they’re still in the _fucking Neibolt house, jesus,_ but Richie still readies himself to grab Eddie if he tries to.

“When, what?” Eddie finally replies. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He sounds so tired. Richie is, too, but _goddammit_, they can’t just pretend that nothing’s changed now, because something _has_. It’s not _fair_.

“That’s so unfair,” Richie says out loud, dangerously close to whining. “Cut the shit, Eddie, okay? You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, ‘cause guess what? It did!”

Eddie whirls around at that, and it’s still so dark in here, but their flashlights make it easy enough for Richie to see the real anger in Eddie’s eyes. Richie actually takes a step back, he’s so shocked at the look on Eddie’s face. “_Shut the fuck up_,” he hisses, the words dripping venom. “_Nothing_ happened, Richie, okay? So can we _please_ just focus on what we’re doing right now?” The anger fades a little, and Eddie backs down, running a hand through his dark hair in that familiar anxious way of his. “Because this really isn’t the time or place.”

“Jesus, whatever,” Richie mutters. He stalks past Eddie to take the lead, shining his light up and down and into the halls and rooms they pass. He knows Eddie’s right, that this isn’t at all a good time to be asking him something like _“so hey, about the fact that we fucked last night – does that change anything?”_ There’s probably no point in asking, anyway, since it _clearly_ did, if Eddie’s attitude is anything to go by.

He manages to keep himself silent for a minute and twenty seconds before he breaks, sighing and pausing his trek down the hall. He turns back to look at Eddie, who’s also stopped and already glaring at Richie, which, whatever. Maybe he deserves it. “What?” Eddie says, exasperated.

“Look,” Richie says, still annoyed but also a little nervous because it’s Eddie, okay, “I know this isn’t the best place to talk about this–”

“No place is,” Eddie mutters.

“–but there’s a very real chance that we could, y’know, fucking, like, get seriously hurt or something,” Richie continues, narrowly avoiding the word _die_ because he really does _not_ want to think about the possibility of any of them dying, especially Eddie. “So I just have to know before, I dunno, it’s too late, or something–”

“Don’t talk like that,” Eddie says, and despite the glint of annoyance in his eyes, his voice is soft. “We’ll be fine. We’ll kill It, get out of here, and…” He trails off for a second, then sighs and adds, voice hardening, “and _never_ speak of anything that’s happened in the past few days. _Anything_, Richie.”

The words hurt, yeah, but – “Oh, well, at least you admit _something_ happened, then,” Richie says, harsher than he really means to, but whatever. “I get it, Eddie, okay? You have a wonderful, beautiful wife back home who’s just sitting by the door, waiting to greet you with open arms when you return–”

“So what if I do?” Eddie snaps. “What does it matter? You’re–” And his voice breaks, just a little, but it’s enough to make Richie almost cut him off, tell him _you’re right, it doesn’t matter, let’s just forget it–_ “You’re my _friend_, Richie, and–”

The anger comes flaring back up and Richie almost yells, “Oh, don’t you say that shit to me, Eddie! We’re _not_ just friends and you fucking know it. All I ask is that you just be fucking honest with me, man, okay?”

Eddie stares at him, something desperate in his eyes that he eventually blinks away. “I am,” he says quietly. “I– what happened last night… shouldn’t have happened, because we’re friends. We’re _friends_, Richie, and that’s it.”

After a few seconds of heavy, awful silence, Richie shakes his head and turns away so Eddie doesn’t have to see the stupid tears threatening to fall from Richie’s eyes. Jesus, he’s pathetic, crying over a guy. “Whatever,” is all he manages to say before his light shines on a few figures at the end of the hall. He almost screams until he realizes that it’s just Bill and Mike, who spot them and let out relieved cries.

“Fuck, we thought we’d really lost you,” Mike says, clapping Richie’s shoulder. If he notices Richie’s eyes looking particularly shiny, he doesn’t mention it. “C’mon, let’s go track down Ben and Beverly.”

“Yeah, alright,” Eddie says, passing Richie to trail behind Bill and Mike. He glances back once, but Richie pretends not to see him, focusing on the rotted wooden floor of the house.

“Richie?” Bill says. Richie looks up after making sure he’s blinked back any possible tears and nods in response. “Come on.”

“Right after you,” he says, and if he avoids Eddie a little too obviously – well.

It doesn’t matter.


	2. stozier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: "Stop pretending you’re okay, ‘cause I know you’re not."

After spending a week dodging his friends’ attempts to hang out during the day and being plagued by nightmares at night, Stan’s woken up one morning to the sound of somebody pounding on the door.

He waits for one of his parents to answer the idiot at the door who apparently thinks it’s okay to go around waking people up super fucking early on a Saturday morning, and rolls over to go back to sleep.

The idiot keeps knocking.

It takes Stan another minute to remember that his parents are out on some trip or whatever, meaning he’s alone and will have to answer the door since it sounds like they’re not going anywhere, because they’re _still fucking knocking_. Groaning, he drags himself out of bed and trudges his way through the house and to the door, which is almost shaking in its frame from being hit so hard. “What the fuck,” he mutters, and then yells to whoever’s still on his porch, “Nobody’s home, go away!”

The knocking finally stops and Stan heaves out a relieved sigh just as the idiot calls tentatively, “Stan? That you?”

_Richie_. Of course it’s fucking Richie Tozier at his door, who else does Stan know that has the energy to be this loud and annoying even in the morning? And then it sinks in that _Richie is at his door_ and he has no idea why.

He hasn’t seen any of his friends for a week. He just – hasn’t been able to get up the energy to do anything, due to a constant exhaustion that hasn’t left yet for some reason. Considering how close he is with them, that’s weird, and Stan is at least a little sure that his absence hasn’t gone entirely unnoticed. Bill and Eddie have both called him a few times over the past few days to invite him out and then express their concerns when he turns them down, and even Mike and Ben called once, which was surprisingly nice  
considering the fact that Stan’s only known them for a few weeks. Beverly herself hasn’t called, but Bill did pass along a kind of _“hope you’re doing okay”_ message from her, and that was good to hear.

Richie, though, hadn’t reached out to Stan once. Not until now.

Finally, he opens the door and sees Richie, still with a fist raised and ready to knock until he sees Stan and slowly lowers it. “Stan,” he says, smiling, and he both looks and sounds incredibly relieved. “What’s up?”

“You’re the one knocking on _my_ door,” Stan snaps, crossing his arms and glaring. He’s annoyed as all hell, sure, but there’s a small part of him that’s quite glad to see Richie after going a week without doing so. Richie’s been a constant in his life for years, after all.

“Yeah, because you’ve been ignoring us all week,” Richie says, his smile slipping just a little, and Stan winces and drops his gaze. “What’s up with that? You doin’ alright?”

“Um. Yes, I’ve been… fine. Just a little busy,” Stan says haltingly, refusing to look back up at Richie. “I’ll probably be able to hang out with you guys soon, though.”

“Bullshit,” Richie says immediately, and that has Stan finally looking back up, surprised at the heat in Richie’s voice. “Stop pretending you’re okay, ‘cause I know you’re not. What’s goin’ on?”

_A lot. A lot is going on_, Stan thinks to himself, but out loud he just sighs and says, “Nothing, okay? I’m fine. Just really busy.”

Richie stares at him, looking entirely unconvinced. “Are you having nightmares, too?” he finally asks, and it’s so soft and un-Richie-like that Stan wonders for a second, a little wildly, if this is even Richie. But it is. Of course it is.

And _nightmares_. He’s having nightmares, yes. He can never remember them when he wakes up, though, and for that he’s grateful, because he always wakes up with a heart that beats too hard and the overwhelming urge to _run and hide_, and he doesn’t think he wants to remember why. Better to let the nightmares only affect him in sleep and then slip away when he wakes.

“Yes,” he admits after a minute, his voice shaky. “But… I don’t remember them. And I don’t want to. Ever.”

“Me too,” Richie says, and he finally looks away, off into the distance like he’s lost in thought – something Stan never thought he’d see Richie do. “We _all_ are, and being together… kind of helps, y’know? That’s why we’ve been trying to get you to come with us.” He blinks, then turns back to look at Stan, and his eyes are darker than normal. “I – _we’re_ worried about you, Stan.” He backs up a step and gestures out to where his bike lays in the yard, next to Stan’s own, properly propped-up bike. “Come out with us today, man.”

Stan hesitates. He wants to, of course, but should he? The thought of going out with his friends is oddly terrifying, because suddenly all Stan can think is what if something happens to them? To me? It’s unlikely, but what if–?

Then Richie reaches out and gently grabs ahold of Stan’s wrist, and the terror in Stan’s mind recedes, just a little. He looks at Richie with wide eyes, who smiles at him slightly.

“It’ll be okay. We’re here for you.”

“Yeah,” Stan breathes. “Okay.”

A few minutes later, Stan’s biking down the street beside Richie, laughing as his friend attempts some kind of bike trick that he clearly still needs to work on. That vague fear is still there, but – his friends are here for him. He’ll be fine.

He’ll be fine.


	3. stenbrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: “Do you want to kiss as bad as I do right now?”

It’s quiet at the park. Not many other people are hanging around, probably since it’s around noon and most other people are busy, so it feels like Stan and Bill are the only ones there. They’re perched on a bench, Stan with his binoculars up against his eyes and Bill flipping through Stan’s bird book, content to just read about the same birds Stan is looking for.

Stan absolutely lives for days like these. Doing his favorite activity, with his favorite person with him, on a day with near-perfect weather? If this day never ends, Stan wouldn’t mind at all.

“Hey.” Bill’s fingers brush against Stan’s arm and he lowers the binoculars to give his friend his attention. Bill taps on the page he’s open to, drawing Stan’s eyes to a picture of a bird with dark feathers. “This one looks p-pretty cool. D-Do you think we’ll s-see it t-today?”

“Oh, a black-throated blue warbler,” Stan says, smiling. “We could! They like heavily shaded areas because it makes it easier for them to hide, but I saw one a few weeks ago. We could get lucky today.” He offers the binoculars to Bill and continues, “Here, you can look for a minute if you want.”

Bill smiles and tugs them from Stan’s hand so he can look through them, and it’s only when Bill has to shift a little closer to do so that Stan realizes he left the binocular’s strap around his neck. His face warms and he goes to pull it up over his head so Bill doesn’t have to sit so close and feel uncomfortable, since he probably already does, but then Bill says softly, “No, it’s okay.” He turns, smiling, and he’s much closer than Stan initially expected, but – he doesn’t mind. Not at all.

“Okay,” he says, unable to hold his own smile back, and Bill looks through the binoculars for a few minutes while Stan just watches him. He finds that he enjoys the close-up view a lot more than he does from his usual one, when they’re with friends and Stan has to force himself to sit a few feet away and only watch him secretly every once in a while.

Eventually, Bill inhales sharply and whispers, “I think I s-see one. O-Over in that t-tree.” He moves the binoculars over a bit so he can still look through one side and gestures for Stan to look through the other side. His blush deepens, but he manages to ignore it and shift in closer to look, too. He has to close one eye to be able to see clearly, but it’s worth it, because Bill’s pressed in close to his side and he can see the bird for himself.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Stan murmurs, laughing when Bill mutters “fuck yeah” under his breath. “You can see the blue up on the top of it, and then the black on its throat, of course, and then some white under it. That’s definitely it.”

“Nice to know I’m not c-completely dumb when it c-comes to b-birdwatching,” Bill says, leaning back to grin at Stan, and they’re still close – much closer than normal. Stan feels a little lightheaded, seeing Bill’s bright eyes so close up.

“You’re rarely dumb in the first place,” Stan scolds, but there’s not much heat in his words. “But yes, good job.”

Bill’s still grinning as he sets the binoculars down; the strap they’re on makes them swing back into place in front of Stan’s chest. Stan barely notices, too transfixed by Bill when he really shouldn’t be, at least not right now. They’re both quiet, just looking at each other, and then Stan watches as Bill’s gaze drops, to– 

To Stan’s lips. His mouth goes dry.

Bill’s gaze flickers back up, and then he says, nervous but without breaking their eye contact, “Do… do you want to k-kiss as bad as I d-do right now?”

“Yes,” Stan breathes, and then Bill’s leaning forward to press his lips to Stan’s.

It’s short and sweet and still completely firework-inducing, at least for Stan. In all the time he’s harbored feelings for Bill, he’s imagined what he’d want their first kiss to be like – who doesn’t? – and somehow this is exactly what he’s wanted. He’s smiling before Bill even pulls away, also grinning, and then they both start giggling, leaning into each other for support.

“That was nice,” Stan says finally, leaning his head on Bill’s shoulder, bird-watching activities nearly forgotten. It’s not a loss, really; he can do it again tomorrow. He can’t break this moment with Bill, yet.

“Just nice?” Bill teases, resting his own head against Stan’s. Stan’s never felt this energized while sitting still before. “I sh-should work on m-my skills, then.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Stan says without really thinking, and they laugh again, loudly and without a care in the world.

Stan sincerely hopes this day never ends.


	4. benverly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: “You come to my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?”

Beverly can’t sleep.

It’s not much of a surprise, really; how can she? She’s back in Derry, of all places, and she’s meant to hunt down and kill It tomorrow with her childhood friends. So, of course, sleep is a blessing that she’s not allowed quite yet. All she can do is stare wide-eyed at the ceiling and try not to imagine how horribly wrong things could go tomorrow.

She rolls over a little while later and reaches out to pat at the bedside table in search of her phone. When she has it in hand, she clicks it on and squints at the screen.

3:34 – _in the fucking morning._

“_Fuck_,” she groans, dropping an arm down over her eyes. The dark is nice for a few seconds before her mind starts playing tricks on her again – making her hear whispers that constantly switch between sounding like her father or Mrs. Kersh or It, making her see nothing but a bathroom bathed in blood-red light, making her feel like someone’s in the corner of the room, watching her, _waiting_ for her – 

She sits bolt upright and yanks frantically at the lamp string a good two or three times before it switches on, filling the room with warm yellow light. She’s alone, of course, but she can’t help staring into the one mostly unlit corner, her mind unhelpfully wondering _now, what could be over there?_

“Nothing,” she says out loud, forcing her voice to stay steady. Nothing is there, but damn if she doesn’t try to hide her fear, _just in case_. “Nothing is there, and I’m leaving.”

She’s out in the motel hallway before she really registers what she’s doing, and then she pauses, slumping against the wall. What is she doing? She had to get out of that room, sure, but there’s not much else she can do outside of it. She certainly can’t sleep in the hall, because that’s just fucking gross.

She can visit someone. One of the other losers. If she knows them – and she does, even if it’s from a lifetime ago – they’re all probably having trouble getting any rest, too. She can go and check on them, see if any of them are willing to stay awake with her, because fuck it, she’s not sleeping tonight.

Her first thought is Bill, but she almost immediately casts it aside. Things with Bill are… weird, right now, and there’s something awfully _intimate_ about the idea of being awake with someone else at such an early hour, and she can’t do that with Bill. Not Mike, either, since he’s at the library. Certainly not Eddie or Richie; they’re probably together at the moment, anyway, and she doesn’t feel like interrupting them.

Ben, then. She’ll go see if Ben is up for spending the night with her, and she smiles slightly as she heads down to his room.

She knocks once, then twice more, ready to turn and leave if he’s actually sleeping. Then the door’s opening and Ben’s there, greeting her softly and smiling in such a familiar way that she just stops and stares for a moment. It’s only now that she wonders, _How could I have ever forgotten him?_

“Beverly?” Ben says, and his voice breaks through her thoughts. He’s still smiling, but there’s some concern behind it now. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she answers, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it. “I’m fine, yeah. Um, sorry, did I wake you?”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Ben says quickly, and then immediately yawns. “Um, wait, ignore that. I was awake, it’s fine.”

She doesn’t believe him in the slightest and laughs, quiet and shaky.

“Do you… what’s going on?” Ben asks, and the concern is back. “Are you really okay?”

“Uh… No. No, I’m not,” she finally admits, sighing. She’s exhausted, but she still can’t imagine sleeping yet. “Can’t sleep.”

Ben nods once. “I get that.” He pauses, then adds, “Do you…?”

“Want to come in?” she finishes hopefully, laughing softly when Ben’s face goes red. “Yes. Please.”

He pulls the door back to let her in and she does so immediately, dropping onto his bed with another sigh. “Hey, your bed is way softer than mine, what is this bullshit?” she complains with a grin, bouncing a few times on the mattress. It’s strangely comfortable for a motel bed.

“Just got lucky, I guess,” Ben says, smiling. He sits down next to her, leaving a few inches of space between them that she frowns at. She doesn’t want _anything_ between them, when she thinks about it; she wants to hold him and lay with him and just forget everything involving clowns and deaths and all of the other bad shit they have going on.

So she does just that.

She shifts closer and just – throws her arms around him, nearly knocking him back until he catches himself with one arm, though he curls the other around her middle. “Woah, hey,” he says, voice a little muffled by her hair. “What–?”

“Can we just… hug, for a while?” she mumbles into his shoulder. “I just… I need it. And I think you do, too.”

Ben’s response is just to tighten his hold on her, exhaling softly. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

They stay like that for a while, embracing each other, and Beverly thinks she might actually fall asleep until Ben speaks up, playfully asking, “So, you really came to my room and woke me up at four in the morning… to cuddle?”

“I thought you weren’t asleep,” she mumbles accusingly, leaning back enough just to mock glare at him. He grins and tugs her back to him, hugging her again, and she rests her head against his chest. “But yes, I did. Problem?”

“No,” he says, and Beverly thinks she feels him drop a kiss to the top of her head. She smiles against him, impossibly content in this room, with him. “No problem at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @ bookrockshooter!


End file.
